Coffee and Deductions
by Arty Diane
Summary: When John and Sherlock go to restaurants or cafes for different reasons, they deduce those around them to pass the time. But the results are not always what they expect, sometimes they get observed themselves! A series of one shots. Chapter 8, "Through the woods and into the restaurant" How do our detectives deal with getting lost in the woods? For Lucy36's birthday!
1. Deducing the Deducters

**I want to thank my great Beta Ennui Enigma, it's finally up!**

**I don't own the characters of BBC Sherlock, I'm just taking them out to cafes!**

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**Deducing the Deducters**

It was a bright sunny day. John and Sherlock were sitting behind a table in the outdoor area of a restaurant.

"Why did you drag me out, John? We're not on a case; there is no reason for me to be here!"

"You were not conducting any experiments; you didn't find the cold cases Lestrade showed you interesting, and it was only a matter of time before you started to tear the flat apart, Sherlock. Now at least you can enjoy some fresh air and eat something."

Sherlock picked at a small portion of his food and began to eat it. "This is boring." He muttered.

"I thought you'd like to try somewhere new. I'm sure you can find a distraction with all these people around us."

"Hmm, alright then." Sherlock leaned back on his chair. "Let's see how much your deduction skills have improved, John. What can you tell from the couple sitting on your right?"

"Well, they're on a date."

"Obviously!"

"It's their first date. They're roughly the same age and I think they're not exactly compatible, judging from their clothing. I'm guessing they met online."

Sherlock glanced over at the couple "This is their first and last date."

"Oh, so you're a relationship expert now?" John teased "Please enlighten me!"

"They are definitely not compatible. The young man is wearing several silver rings and a thick chain around his neck. He's wearing his shirt with his collar buttons open, indecently so, I might say, and he has used far too much product in his hair. This shows him to be someone who belongs to that species known as _play boys_. The girl's attire on the other hand is modest and professional. Her shawl shows her artistic style. Notice also that she has only ordered an orange juice, but it's lunch time, which shows she wants this date to be over with as soon as possible."

"I wonder what is happening between those three over there, only the girl in the middle is talking."

"She's trying to set the boy and girl up, probably a well-meaning mutual friend."

"Well, she's in for a big disappointment. Neither party is interested in the other."

"How many of these _setting up_ sessions have you endured then, John?"

"Enough to know the torture those two are going through! Haven't you ever been set up with anyone?"

"In order to be 'set up' I would need to have friends stupid enough to do that. Fortunately I don't have any friends with that level of stupidity."

"I'll take that as a compliment," John said with a smile.

"So John, what can you tell me about that middle aged couple on your left?"

"Hmm, they are not romantically involved. That much is apparent from their body language. They know each other very well. They're not comfortable enough to be brother and sister though."

"They're cousins. The male is from New York, he has come over here on a business trip and has had to fit a family reunion in his schedule."

"Oh, he's here to chat with his favorite cousin, how sweet!"

"How can you tell that?" Sherlock looked at John with some surprise

"Well, he's on a tight schedule and he's cut the reunion short, these events take up to a whole day at least, but he's here in an outdoor restaurant with his cousin, which means he prefers her company to the rest of the throng of his relatives. So she's definitely his favorite cousin!"

"I see."

"Really Sherlock?"

"Sentiment?"

"Yup!" Then John looked around to find a new group to be scrutinized. "Ok, so what do you gather from that group of brunets sitting on your right?"

"They're members of a family, mother and her two daughters."

"Girls day out!"

Sherlock looked confused for a moment but he brushed it aside. "Any way, the mother is-" his eyes suddenly widened by a fraction, he looked straight ahead of himself and tried to hide a smile.

John turned his head to look at the brunet trio. The mother had her face in both her hands, from what John could see her face was flushed a deep red. The younger daughter had her hand under her nose as if to stop a sneeze, but from the twist of her mouth it was evident that she was trying to stifle a fit of giggles. The elder daughter seemed confused by her family's actions.

John felt a twinge of sympathy for her. Just then she turned and her eyes met John's. Her eyes widened in realization, she turned her head back abruptly and pinched her nose, trying not to laugh, but failing to control the shaking of her shoulders. When her mother and sister saw her reaction they started shaking harder with suppressed laughter.

John turned back to his original position in his seat and blushed. "Were they-?"

"Yes."

"And we were-?"

"Yes."

John started giggling "Well what do you know! The deducters got deducted!"

Sherlock chuckled "What are you going to name this event in your blog? 'Deducting the deductors'? Or 'Deductors deductions deduced'?"

"Good to see you're amused!" John said with a good-humored smile.

"I can go on John, the possibilities are endless!"

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**Reviews are highly appreciated!**


	2. Saved by the sirens!

**A big thank you to my great Beta, Ennui Enigma.**

**I don't own the characters of BBC Sherlock, I just like to surprise them when they're in cafes!**

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Sherlock and John were in a diner on a stake out. They were sitting in a booth by the window. Sherlock was scanning the street, waiting for their suspect to exit the shop across the street.

"How long has he been in the shop, Sherlock?"

"Ten minutes."

"You planted the book in the correct category?"

"Yes, but in the wrong alphabetic order, this should give us some time for Lestrade and his team to arrive and arrest him."

"Good, so we can actually manage to finish our coffees before we have to go running around the city after our guy?"

"Lestrade is going to come and arrest him John, show a little faith in the Met's abilities."

"The Met usually arrives with their sirens on, so there is a chance of him running out from a back door. In eighty-five percent of the times we have ended up spotting the suspect at this act and chasing after him."

"It seems as if you are hoping this will happen, John."

"Just stating the fact observed from numerous occurrences, Sherlock." John answered in the same dry tone Sherlock had used.

Sherlock was slightly taken aback. He quickly gathered himself up and said "This will take at least twenty minutes, are you up for a little practice in deductions to pass the time?"

John brightened "Sure, what do you have in mind?"

"What do you gather from the woman wearing the gray coat?"

"She's an office worker. She has trouble with her feet but her office has a strict dress code. That is why she is wearing trainers. She's put her shoes in her hand bag."

"Huh, interesting!"

"What is?"

"You're dating has had some actual benefits!"

John snorted "Is he out yet?" Sherlock shook his head fractionally

"Ok, so what do you gather from those two?" John asked.

"A father and daughter. Father has brought his daughter here for breakfast before he drops her off at the kindergarten and then heads off to work."

"They look stressed."

"There's a sick baby at home, most probably crying all night and keeping the parents awake, more likely the mother has taken the larger portion of the night shift, therefore the father has brought the elder child to a diner for breakfast in order to let the mother rest in the morning."

"How did you know about the baby?"

"There's rattle peaking from the father's briefcase. Also there's a bit of baby formula on his sleeve."

"That was brilliant!"

Sherlock flashed a brief smile. "Ok, now it's your turn." He turned and looked at the line "How about that blond woman wearing a- John, what are you doing under the table?"

"Blond woman nearly forty years old, on and off alcoholic, interior designer and a lesbian." Then John yanked a dumbstruck Sherlock under the table with him.

"How did you gather so much information about her so quickly? You usually take longer to absorb the details! Also, she had her back towards us. And why on earth are we hiding under the table?" Sherlock gasped in disbelief as he rubbed his wrist from John's hurried yank.

"That's my sister, Harry!"

"Oh, it seems I'll have to wait for another opportunity to be introduced to her!" Sherlock said with a grin.

"This is no laughing matter, Sherlock!" John was exasperated.

"Are you embarrassed by me?" Sherlock said with a teasing smile.

"What? No! Sherlock, if she sees us then she won't let us get away any time soon which means…"

"We'll lose our suspect. We need a diversion."

"Easier said than done." John said ruefully.

Just then police sirens were heard from the direction of the opposite window. Everybody, including Harry turned to look curiously out that window. John and Sherlock took the opportunity and fled out the door.

"That was lucky" John said while nervously looking back.

Just then they spotted their suspect opening the bookshop's back door and creeping into the ally, while clutching the book planted in the shop by Sherlock.

Sherlock nudged John and pointed to the allay. John rolled his eyes "What did I tell you? Bloody statistics are taking over our lives!"

"At least the sirens were good for something this time!" Sherlock quipped.

John chuckled as they both took off running after their suspect.


	3. Candle light and ice-ball fights

**This one came to me in a restaurant. They just put candles on every table. I wanted to tell them "I'm not my date!" since I was alone at the table. My muse is weird...**

**For my dear Ennui Enigma,Happy birthday! I hope you'll have a great year, and many more birthdays to come!**

**I don't own the characters from BBC Sherlock, I'll just give them a bowl of hot soup at the end of this chapter to compensate for what I put them through...**

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The bell of Angelo's restaurant's door chimed. Angelo looked up and saw John and Sherlock enter. He smiled and went forward to greet them.

"Will you have your usual table?"

Sherlock raised his head out of his scarf "N-n-no, d-d-do you h-have an empty t-table near the h-heater?"

Angelo noticed their rigid postures and the way they kept their hands tightly under their armpits. He was concerned. "Are you two okay?"

"F-f-fine!" Sherlock said through chattering teeth.

"There's an empty table near the fire place…"

"Th-thank you!" John stammered.

John and Sherlock hurried to the offered table as fast as their stiff limbs allowed them to, and plopped down in their chairs with a sigh of relief.

Angelo came to their table with a menu and the customary candle.

"Angelo?" John began.

"Sorry, I know you're not a couple, but it's a little hard for me-"

"A-actually, A-angelo, would you p-please bring another c-c-candle as well? If it's not t-too much t-trouble that is." John said meekly.

"Sure thing." Angelo was a little confused by this unexpected request.

As he waited for the waiter to bring him the other saucer with the candle, he saw John pushing the miniature flame towards Sherlock. Sherlock looked up at the doctor. John nodded encouragingly at him. Sherlock held his shaking hands over the flame and closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of contentment. Then he pushed the candle back to John. John held his hands over the flame for a minute then passed it back to Sherlock. As he did that, Angelo put a second lit candle in front of him.

"So," Angelo began nonchalantly, "What happened to you two?"

John and Sherlock concentrated on thawing their frigid hands over the pleasant heat of the candle for a minute. Then they looked at each other. John sighed dejectedly.

#########################################################

**_An hour earlier:_**

John and Sherlock were pursuing their suspect in the winding back-alleys of London. They turned in an alley on their right, then they quickly backtracked and took cover behind the wall as they were greeted by bullets.

"Do you have your gun with you, John?"

John checked his coat pocket. He held the gun in his hand, checked the chamber and swore. Sherlock raised an enquiring eyebrow at him.

John let out a frustrated breath, "I only have three rounds left."

They both slumped against the wall. "Should we wait for Lestrade?" John asked.

"If we sit here and wait, they'll get away."

"But we can't go and arrest them with our current resources either. Even if I had a full chamber, they are too many for us to deal with on our own."

Sherlock put his palms together, closed his eyes, and pressed his hands to his lips. After a minute he opened his eyes and looked at John. "These alleys are all connected. There's an open area just two blocks from our current position. We can draw them there and distract them long enough for Lestrade and the yarders to reach us."

They took the route Sherlock offered and the gang pursued them. The members of the gang were more than they had anticipated. John huffed exasperatedly.

"If we hide and they decide to spread out, they'll find us in no time. We need a plan to keep them occupied long enough for the backup to arrive. Any plans Sherlock?"

Sherlock surveyed the area. It had snowed relentlessly for the past week. The shadows cast by the surrounding buildings prevented the sun's feeble heat reaching the snow. This had caused the snow to melt a bit and then freeze over, resulting in rock solid piles of snow riddling the area. A plan presented itself to Sherlock.

"John, we have approximately three minutes until the gang closes in on us." He took out his pen knife from his pocket. He scrutinized a sheet of ice covering the wall behind them, aimed, and then stabbed it. The wall of ice crumbled and thick pieces of hard crystal fell in front of them.

Sherlock picked up an armful of the murky pieces and handed them to John. "Go and hide behind that pile of frozen snow. We can distract them by throwing the ice at their heads or making noise in other directions to distract them. If we manage to keep it up for five minutes, the Police will arrive and apprehend them."

"Does Greg know where we are?"

"Yes I texted him the details."

"Okay then." John clapped a hand on Sherlock's arm. "Good luck, I hope we'll get out of this alive." Then he hurried to take cover behind the piles of ice opposite those that Sherlock took cover behind.

By the time the criminals reached the open space in the middle of the buildings, John and Sherlock were safely hidden and ready for them.

The six gang members ran in the middle of the open space and looked around them. Suddenly something hard struck one them in the back of the head. He turned around to see what it was when he heard a painful yelp from his comrade.

"What the hell is going on?" The leader spited out, before a hard blow to the temple knocked him out. The remaining five criminals took out their guns and pointed them around randomly.

Sherlock carefully surveyed the scene over his pile. He ducked down and started to frantically rub one of his ice pieces against the hard snow. He managed to fashion it in the shape of a rough, miniature spear.

He poked his head out again and caught John's eye. Sherlock signaled to him and John moved over and joined him.

Sherlock looked over, aimed, and threw his makeshift spear with all his might at a row of icicles hanging precariously from the edge of a rooftop, just above the gang members. The ice structure creaked and came crashing down with a resounding crash. Three of the remaining five were caught under it. The remaining two criminals didn't have enough time to react as they were disarmed by two rapid gun shots.

Just then the booming sound of the police's warning filled the air and police officers swarmed the area.

Lestrade saw John and Sherlock emerge from behind the frozen piles as the police officers cuffed six bruised and dazed gang members.

"You two alright?"

"F-f-fine Lest-trade!" Sherlock stammered.

"G-great t-t-timing Greg!" John mumbled.

Lestrade stared at his two wet and shivering consultants. He let out a resigned sigh "See you at the station tomorrow then."

John tried to smile, but it ended up a grimace "Sure th-thing."

John and Sherlock turned and left the commotion in the alley.

"Now we're going to f-f-freeze to death." John said ruefully.

"N-no we're n-not. W-we'll f-f-find a cab and g-go h-home."

"T-t-too f-f-far!" John protested.

"A-a-angelo's is j-j-just a block aw-w-way." Sherlock offered.

################################################

Sherlock looked up at Angelo. "It was a case."

Angelo nodded, "Isn't it always." Then he added cheerfully, "So, do you want to start with a nice mushroom soup?"

By the time they finished their meal, John and Sherlock were warm and dry and they could manage to speak without a stutter.

Sherlock pushed the candle in front him towards John. John looked up at Sherlock with a puzzled expression. Just then Angelo came over their table and put a piece of cake in front of them. John was totally confused. Sherlock smiled at him, "Happy birthday John!"

"What? Is it my birthday already?"

"Yes, it is. Time flies when you're having fun, right?"

John started laughing. "I can't believe I forgot my own birthday again!"

"Surprised, aren't you?" Sherlock asked with a mischievous grin.

John had gone limp from laughing so hard. He nodded. "I can't believe you pulled this on me again!"

"I'm just returning the favour." Sherlock told him nonchalantly.

Sherlock didn't tell John about the surprise waiting for him in the flat. _He might want to discover that for himself_. _Not to mention Mrs. Hudson will have my head if I ruin her carefully planned surprise party_. Sherlock thought to himself with a smirk.


	4. A Slippery Situation

**Thanks to marylouleach for providing the medical information for this chapter.**

**Hey sis, I put Mycroft here for you! Also, all of you lovely people who read this, reviews are highly appreciated! :D**

**I don't own the characters of BBC Sherlock, I just put them in a slippery and snowy city! **

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-Cannot make it to the pub, Sherlock had a bit of an accident. JW

-Is he alright? GL

-Yes, nothing serious. Thanks for asking. Sorry about the pub tonight. JW

-No problem, don't worry about it. It turns out I couldn't make it tonight either. GL

Greg Lestrade put his mobile phone back in his coat pocket and looked around the canteen in St. Bart's hospital. He gingerly touched the bandage on his head and winced. _Why is Sally taking so long to get coffee?_ He thought.

Just then the canteen's door opened and John Watson stepped into the canteen. He had his right arm bandaged and in a sling over his neck and held a small tray in his left hand. He looked around to find an empty table when he spotted Greg. He smiled at him and walked over to the table.

"Fancy seeing you here, Greg!" John said pleasantly. Then he indicated the bandage on Greg's head. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this surprising meeting?"

"Well," Greg started, "It all started a few hours ago…"

…

I parked my car on the curb. Both Sargent Donoven and I got out of the car and approached the house of the witness in our latest case. It was a fairly straight forward murder, no need to involve the Baker Street Duo for this one. I was surprised that Anderson had actually been able to gather and piece together the needed evidence to reveal the murderer. _Always a first time for everything!_ I thought to myself amused.

We rang the doorbell and waited for one the house's residents to open the door. After ringing two more times we gave up and moved to inquire after our witness from the neighbors. As we moved away from the house, we spotted a man fiddling with his motorbike. He had a square head, a crooked nose and a thin mouth. From the equipment beside the bike and his relaxed posture, it was easy to deduce he was a local and most probably one of the neighbors.

Sally approached the man. When the man saw Sally he said, "A schoolgirl threw a snowball at my head today."

"Excuse me?" Sally was confused.

"I'm going to avenge myself by throwing one at you!" And he smiled menacingly. The man gathered a pile of snow from the rooftop of a car he was standing next to.

I could practically hear the alarms going off in my head, with big red PERVERT ALERT flashing in front of my mind's eye. Who knew what was in that snowball beside snow.

Sally turned as a huge snowball narrowly missed her, only grazing her chest. The biker swore and started gathering snow to make another snowball. By the time he had made another one, I was by Sally's side. I took out my ID card and held it in front of him. "Police! Drop that snowball or I'll-"

…

"…Next thing I know, I was laying on my back and Sally was pressing a handkerchief to the side of my head. She then drove me here to get patched up." Greg finished.

"Stitches?"

"Yup!"

"Did you have a CT scan done?"

"Yes, you doctors and your scans!" Greg rolled his eyes. "I had a CT scan and an MRI. All is well here!"

"Good to know." John replied with a smile.

"Speaking of which, I though you said Sherlock had an accident. Why did you lie?"

"I didn't lie. He's in an exam room, trying to learn to walk with his crutches. I got here to get some snacks, since I'm the one who can walk."

"So, you both got injured."

"Yes."

"At the same time?"

"Yup."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Well," John said with a smirk, "it all started a few hours ago…"

…

It was a cold and cloudy winter morning. Last night's snow had settled and the sidewalk was covered in a slippery gray slush.

"I hope Molly has the body ready by the time we arrive." Sherlock mused.

"Don't worry; she has plenty of time to get ready."

"Why do you say that John? The time it takes us to reach Bart's on foot is fifteen minutes at most, that's not a particularly lar-" Sherlock was startled as he nearly fell down on his face and had to cut himself in the middle of his own sentence.

"The reason for our prolonged trip, Sherlock, is the slush covering the sidewalk. As you so kindly demonstrated, we can't hurry" I steadied myself as I slipped a bit on the half melted snow, "Or we'll end up in Bart's A&E, not the morgue."

Sherlock contemplated that for a brief moment and opened his mouth to reply when I cut him off before he could start, "You know what I mean! Just, be careful."

We made our way more slowly to the hospital, steadying ourselves as we kept slipping on the slush.

"This is ridiculous!" Sherlock complained "We can't find a cab, and we can't take two steps without appearing drunk. Why can't we walk on the road?"

"Because we'll get hit by a bus and die Sherlock, that's why!" I shook my head. "Besides, we're almost there, we'll cross this intersection and Bart's is just around the corner."

We stood on the curb and waited for the light to turn green. As we stepped on the pavement a biker passed the red light and headed straight for us. I dragged Sherlock out of the way and onto the sidewalk.

When the biker drove past us, he lost control and veered in the sidewalk and towards us. Sherlock panicked and pulled me back, but he lost his footing and we both slipped and fell down.

…

"…Good thing Bart's was close and the pavement around the hospital was slush-free." John continued, "Or I don't know how I could have gotten us to a hospital this quickly."

"That must have been painful!" Greg said sympathetically. "How did you get him here? Sherlock hates hospitals."

"Well, we sort of got each other to the hospital." John said with a fond smile, "He took one look at me and deduced a sprained wrist from the swelling. I deduced his sprained ankle from looking at his foot. He told me I should get my wrist looked at and I told him the same went for his ankle. So we decided to get to the A&E together."

"To get scanned."

"Nothing beats a good scan!" John said cheerfully.

"How long are you going to be out of action?"

"He's gonna be of the streets for at least two weeks. I have to take it easy for three."

"Good luck mate. I can't imagine what he'll be like cooped up in the flat for two weeks!"

"At least he still has the violin!" John muttered.

"Are you two finished swapping stories yet?"

With that Sherlock dropped in the seat next to John and leaned his crutches against the table. He looked at Lestrade. "First degree concussion and a laceration?"

"Nice to see you too." Greg said with a chuckle.

John handed Sherlock a cup of coffee, then he indicated the crutches, "You got the hang of those pretty quickly."

"Hm? Oh yes, child's play."

Greg snickered. Just then Sally appeared with two cups of coffee and handed one to Lestrade, then she lowered herself on the chair next to him. "Did the Baker Street Duo slip in the snow?" Sally asked mockingly.

"Actually, Sally, for once your deduction has been accurate." Sherlock said calmly.

"It's the day of firsts all around." Greg mused.

Sherlock's lips twitched, "Well, I hate to break it to you, but you're pursuing the wrong suspect for your domestic murder case…"

They all moved to get out of the hospital together while Sherlock finished his explanations to Lestrade. Lestrade was leaning on Sally's arm to make sure he could maintain his balance. When they were out of the A&E's doors, they caught sight of a newly arrived patient. Sally froze as she heard the patient's _very_ loud complaints.

"AWW, careful there mate, I just had an accident, be gentle!"

Sally turned to Lestrade when she noticed John had stiffened and was glaring at the newly arrived patient, so was Sherlock.

"Well isn't this a small world?" John asked darkly. Sherlock snarled.

Sally was amazed, "Wait, you don't mean to say that this guy was the same biker who almost killed you?"

"Let me guess, this is the guy who attacked you with the ice-balls." John countered evenly.

"It seems there is cosmic justice in the world after all, Sargent Donoven." Sherlock replied dryly.

Lestrade and Sally nodded.

The wounded biker kept screaming, "He appeared out of nowhere! It's like that damn black car just materialized in front of me!"

"Ya, whatever you say man, just calm down." The paramedic wielding his gurney told him neutrally. He pushed his patient towards the hospital door.

"Wait! That's the car that came in front of me! THAT'S THE CAR!" the biker roared.

"Shut up or I'll sedate you!" the other paramedic retaliated.

They looked over to the place the biker was gesturing at, and sure enough a black sedan was parked there.

John's mobile chimed with a text alert.

-Need a ride home? MH

Sherlock read the text over John's shoulder. He sniffed, "We'll get a cab."

"Sure, you flag down one of the few hundred cabs teaming in the street and I'll pay!" John offered sarcastically.

Sherlock took a look at the empty street. "We can walk!"

"Oh goody, we can break our necks in the slush this time!" John said with mock enthusiasm. Then he rolled his eyes. "Cheer up, Sherlock, we're hitching a ride with cosmic justice!"

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**So here is what happened to inspire me: A few days ago, three of my friends and I were walking to the bus stop. It was snowing and the sidewalk was covered in a thick and slippery slush. As we were crossing the street, one of my friends slipped and fell on the ground rather ungracefully. (She is perfectly fine, didn't even bruise.) Unfortunately for us, a psycho biker was standing near us and said the same line the biker told Sally. He threw a snowball and it grazed my chest. Too bad the s.o.b drove off before I could even brandish my umbrella at him…**


	5. I didn't order that!

**Thanks to dear Ennui Enigma for betaing for me. **

**This is an expansion of my 221B "I'm Having What He's Having". I just couldn't resist it!**

**Hey sis, please refrain from dishing my personal details here, although I'm grateful for your reviews. I'm also grateful for everyone's reviews, follows and favs, they make my day! You're all wonderful readers! :D**

**I don't own the characters of BBC Sherlock, I just confronted them with wierd coffee orders! **

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"John, you're drawing too much attention."

John was doubled over on his chair, head bowed down and his shoulders were shaking.

"John, do try and control yourself!"

John pinched his nose and stilled for a moment, but couldn't manage it and started shaking again.

Sherlock was getting exasperated "I don't think what I said merited such a severe reaction."

John wiped a tear from his eye and nodded as if trying to say "yes it did!"

Just then Lestrade entered the café, "I've been looking for you two, there's a case of-" Lestrade broke of mid-sentence upon seeing John "what's wrong with him? What did you do Sherlock?"

"Nothing! He's been acting like that ever since I sent the waiter away to correct our bill"

John raised his head, his face was a dark shade of red. He took in a deep breath and his face lightened a bit. "Hello, Greg!"

"What's going on? What's the story with the waiter?"

"Well he…" John lost control again and dissolved into another fit of laughter.

"I really don't understand what's so funny. It was quite mundane. The waiter brought our bill. We ordered two large coffees. When the waiter brought our bill it had an additional seven espressos on it. So, I sent him away to correct the mistake."

Lestrade smirked, "You never just send people away. What was your snarky comment?"

John managed to gasp out "The imagery… it was priceless…" Then he continued to shake with barely controlled laughter. Lestrade turned to Sherlock.

"I only pointed out the fact that if we had consumed seven cups of espresso, we wouldn't be able to calmly sit in our chairs. Instead we would be tap dancing around the café and all the way to Scotland Yard."

"I can't get the picture out of my head" John managed to get out from between his giggles.

"And it's completely illogical, seven is an odd number, we are two people, there is no way we could have shared them equally" Sherlock explained.

Lestrade chuckled, "So that's your secret of being able to run around the city all day. If that's the case, add two more and I'll join you!"

John seemed to be on the verge of falling off of his chair. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Breathe, John, breath!"

* * *

After John managed to compose himself, they all went out to the crime scene that Lestrade had originally come to tell John and Sherlock about when he entered the café. Now they found themselves investigating a murder, a very strange murder to be precise. They were standing in an alley and examining the body of a young male in his mid-twenties. His wallet was missing. He had fairly normal clothes, except that his feet were bare.

John determined the cause of death to be poison, ingested through his coffee, a distinct Turkish coffee judging by its lingering aroma emanating from his mouth and clinging to his hands.

Then it was Sherlock's turn to go over the crime scene and deduce what everyone else had missed.

"He has no piercings or ostentatious tattoos. His clothes are plane and normal. So it wasn't a gang related killing. He doesn't have the tell-tale marks of an addict, so that rules out the dealer as well. He has distinct calluses on his feet, he's a dancer, but not just any dancer, the place and shape of the calluses suggest he's a tap-dancer."

Sherlock suddenly broke off and cringed, and then he turned to cautiously look at John. John's expression was attentive, "Does the coffee brand help at all?"

Sherlock relaxed, "Yes, as a matter of fact it does. The distinct brand of coffee suggests indulgence, so he must have been pretty important in his company. He was the lead dancer in the show. There is only one show on that includes tap-dancing in town. We should go and interview the people involved with the company to see which one poisoned the star of the show."

Lestrade finished his note. "Sure thing," then he turned to a young rookie on the scene. "Jones, go and get a black coffee before we head for that theater. I need it before I have to endure the antics of a bunch of melodramatic dancers!"

John snorted "Melodramatic dancers?"

"I take my daughter to her dance lessons, oh the antics those kids pull! If they're so dramatic at this age, I can just imagine what they'll be like when they're adults."

They turned to see poor officer Jones being bombarded by everyone's orders for drinks.

"I want an espresso!"

"Ya, me too!"

"I want a tea!"

"A decaf latte for me-"

"Get me a large black coffee-"

Sherlock was surveying the scene with mild amusement.

Officer Jones was writing furiously on a piece of paper. He went over his list and made a few adjustments. He then cleared his throat to gain everyone's attention. Sherlock turned to him with an air of anticipation.

"Okay, so let me go over this one more time, I want to make sure I got everyone's orders right. So, you two" Jones pointed to two officers "want a late each, I have two black coffees," he looked up to see the people who ordered them nod, "a tea and seven espressos."

Sherlock watched John's face twist and turn to an interesting shade of red. He pinched his nose and turned away as he walked away from the crime scene. Sherlock went after him and fell into step with him. He watched John struggle to suppress a fit of laughter.

Sherlock grinned "Now I know how to improve your temper when you're having a bad day."

John had somewhat composed himself by then. He looked up at Sherlock amused "Oh really? Do enlighten me!"

"Seven espressos!"

John dissolved into a fit of giggles and Sherlock joined him.


	6. What day is it today?

**This is going to be posted in two parts, because it got out of hand and became too long! The time and POV shifts between present with third person, and John's highschool years with his point of view.**

**Thank you to all the lovely ladies in Mrs. Hudson's kitchen for giving me the push to finish this chapter. You're awesome! **

**I don't own the characters of Sherlock, I just made them so busy they forgot the date!**

* * *

**What day is it today?**

John and Sherlock entered the first café they found late in the afternoon. They had just finished a particularly difficult case and they were both starving. They gratefully slumped on the chairs behind a small table in a corner. John looked around the café in hopes of finding the waiter when he noticed something about the other patrons in the café.

"That's odd." He murmured when he turned towards Sherlock.

"What's odd, John?"

"It seems all the tables here are occupied by couples!" John said in a low voice.

Sherlock furrowed his brows and turned to look at the people in the café. John was correct. The café was full of mostly young couples. But that was not the only odd fact. All the women were wearing pink or red and all the couples were making doe eyes at each other. It was nauseating!

"John, is today by any chance related to breast cancer awareness or heart disease awareness?"

"To be honest, I have lost track of what day it is today. Why do you ask?"

"Well, all the women-"

Just then the waiter arrived and placed a candle on their table. John rolled his eyes. He wanted to protest when he noticed the little red paper hearts covering the candle holder, and everything fell into place for him.

"So what can I get for you lovely couple this evening?" The waiter, who was a middle aged man, asked them with a pleasant smile. Sherlock was vaguely reminded of Angelo.

Sherlock glanced at John, waiting for his customary "We're not a couple!" remark. Instead he was greeted by John's pale face followed by the loud rumbling of his stomach. It was shortly followed by Sherlock's own transport's fuel tank's protests.

The penny dropped for the waiter. "I'll get you a burger with salad on the side each." He said while trying to keep a straight face.

Sherlock watched the waiter leave, then he turned to John. "Alright John, what's the occasion for today? You realized it just after the waiter arrived."

"Based on the evidence we gathered so far," John checked his phone, "and the calendar of my phone, it's February the fourteenth." Seeing the blank look on Sherlock's face he continued, "It's Valentine's Day, Sherlock."

"Oh, so that's why Donovan was crankier than her usual self today." Sherlock said without a trace of sarcasm.

"Well, I guess I have to thank the murderer for creating a case that made us so engrossed that we all forgot to be depressed about Valentine's Day." John chuckled.

"Why would you be depressed? And who do you mean by 'we'? I wouldn't be depressed because of a date on the calendar!"

"I broke up with Lisa about two weeks ago-"

"Good riddance, she was boring!" Sherlock interjected.

"-So I don't have a date for Valentine. That usually makes people upset, if they're into those stuff, as Sally so kindly demonstrated for you. By 'we' I meant Greg and I, as you removed yourself from the answer. He's been divorced and alone for some years now."

"Why doesn't he date Molly and end his misery?" Sherlock said with a huff.

"Didn't Molly have a boyfriend?"

"Oh, they broke up last week."

"Really? What happened?"

"Well John, I could bore you with the details," Sherlock said with a sly smile "But I guess you'd much rather watch the reenactment of the said events." And he indicated a table in on his left with a slight movement of his head.

John looked at the window. It was dark outside, so the glass worked as a decent enough reflective surface.

As the couple was sipping their glasses of wine a man with a brown trench coat entered the café and approached the couple's table. He leaned down and whispered something in the man's ear. The man looked up at the trench coat wearing one with a glare. The standing man bent down and said something with a stern look. The sitting man sighed, he apologized to his date, and went along with the newcomer.

"Plain clothes detective or bookie?" John asked with pity.

"You're improving John!" Sherlock said with a smile, "Detective, Just like what happened to Molly's ex. She reported him to Lestrade herself."

"I didn't expect anything less from the girl who dumped Moriarty!" John said impressed. Then a thought occurred to him. "How about we set them up!" He said excitedly.

"John, you know how I feel about setting people up."

"No, you don't like other people setting _you_ up. You never said anything about _you_ setting _other_ _people_ up. You even suggested pairing Molly and Greg a few minutes ago!"

"You have done this before, haven't you?" Sherlock asked him suspiciously.

"Ya, sort of…"

"What do you mean by _sort of_?"

"I wasn't alone, and some of the pairings that happened were unplanned."

The waiter arrived with their meals and placed it in front of them.

Sherlock picked up his burger and took a bite. "So when did you cause these pairings?"

"It was in my tenth year. I was fifteen, Luna was sixteen and Harry was seventeen."

"Luna?"

"Luna Edgeworth, she's our cousin. We went to the same school."

Sherlock hummed in acknowledgment. "What happened?"

"This might take a while; do you think you can manage?"

"As long as it's not boring." Sherlock teased.

"Oh, believe me, this is anything but!"

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It was a week before Valentine's Day and I was sitting in the school's canteen, having lunch when Harry joined me. Her loud huffing and puffing were _subtle_ hints that she was in a fouler mood than usual.

"Why hello to you too Harry! Did you have a nice morning so far?" I asked her sarcastically.

She glared at me and turned her head away from me.

"Why yes, I had a nice morning. Thanks for asking. Our teacher announced that we will be dissecting a cow's eye next week."

"Okay, that is a really weird subject to be discussing over lunch." Luna said while taking a seat beside us. "But somehow I don't think Harry's face warrant's your cheerful ramblings. Shame, I thought for once you two were having a normal conversation."

"You just said my topic of the conversation was weird."

"_You_ are weird John, it's not like you can help choosing the subjects you talk about." Luna said nonchalantly.

"If I'm weird, then what are you?"

"I'm weirder than you, no arguing there, I just know how to hide it better."

Harry snorted at that.

"Ah! The queen is amused!" I said with mock enthusiasm.

"So what's been bugging you dear cousin?"

"Well," Harry sighed, "I could tell you, but you'll be bored."

"I'd rather be bored by you telling us what the matter is than enduring your foul mood for the rest of the week!" I said with a role of my eyes.

Harry glared at me again then turned to Luna, "You know Cleo from my math's class?"

"That b-witch from your chemistry class?" Luna asked with disdain.

"Yup, that's the one." Harry took in a deep breath, "You also know Peter from that class?"

"Ya, he's a really nice guy. I think I can guess the plot, give me the gist of the argument." Luna said briskly.

"In a nut shell, Cleo started calling me some derogatory homophobic names, and told me to quit flirting with Peter since I'm not supposed to like guys."

"Harry-"

"And it was all in the middle of the class! I get into quarrels all the time, but in the yard or the hallway." Harry was beginning to tear up, "She practically sucker-punched me in the middle of the class in front of everyone." She began twisting her spoon in her hand while glaring at her lunch.

"Harry that's-"

"I mean, sure, I like girls better than boys, but maybe I haven't made up my mind yet. Maybe I like Peter just as a friend. It's not like that _tart_ owns all the boys in the school!" Harry finished angrily.

"Harry!" Luna said firmly. That made Harry snap out of her ranting mode and look up.

"I agree with you Harry. She did a terrible thing. But the only thing you'll achieve by moping is adding to that she-devil's satisfaction."

"What do you suggest I do then?"

"Take revenge, of course!"

"And how do you propose I do that dear cousin?" Harry asked bitterly.

"Ladies," I interjected, "I believe I have an idea."

"We can't beat her up John, that's too crude." Luna said dismissively.

"Oh no, nothing like that," I said with a grin, "I have a way that has intrigue, embarrassment, and crushed hopes all in store for our _dear_ Cleo. What's more, she would never know it was us, so she can't take revenge."

"Us?"

"Why yes Harry, you didn't expect me to turn my back on my sister in her time of need, now did you?" I asked in a falsely sweet tone.

* * *

**Part two will be up shortly. Reviews are highly appreciated! :D**

**Happy Valentine's Day!**


	7. What day is it today? Part two

**Part two of my Valentine's special. The time shifts between present and John's highschool years and the POV shifts between third person and John's. We get to see what John's plan is and what its effects are!**

**I don't own the characters of Sherlock, I'm just making them continue down their trip down memory lane!**

* * *

**What day is it today? Part Two**

_I said with a grin, "I have a way that has intrigue, embarrassment, and crushed hopes all in store for our dear Cleo. What's more, she would never know it was us, so she can't take revenge."_

_"Us?"_

_"Why yes Harry, you didn't expect me to turn my back on my sister in her time of need, now did you?" I asked in a falsely sweet tone._

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"So I told them my plan and they were really impressed. Luna declared me more devious than the devil himself."

"What was your plan?" Sherlock asked intrigued.

"Patience young padawan, we'll get to that. Now let me get on with the story!" John said with a smile.

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We had to make some preparations. The success of the plan depended on two factors, information and secrecy. Luna infiltrated the chemistry class for two sessions under the pretense that she wanted to see what the subject was like in higher levels, while she observed Cleo's interactions in the class. I tried to get the guys' point of view, I got them chatting by throwing the subject of Cleo casually in conversations and such.

Two days later we had all the information we needed. The second phase of our plan was easy. The school had arranged a charity thing where the students paid 10 pence for sending a Valentine's card to another student in the school. It was the perfect opportunity for pulling pranks and we seized the chance.

"John, why have you bought five cards?" Luna asked me.

"For diversion, of course. We can't be seen standing around a single card. That would be suspicious."

"Ya, right!" Luna snorted.

"No use hiding it Johnny, it's not like I don't know who your crush is!" Harry said with a role of the eyes.

"Ya, ya, whatever! Revenge first, gossip after. What should we write in it?"

"'I hope you'll rot in hell and I get to dance on your grave!'" Harry snarled.

"Apparently you have forgotten the significance of this lovely holiday Harry dear." Luna gently admonished.

"We need something that would make her angry, but not give us away either." I reminded them.

"My suggestion could have come from any of the girls in the school. Goodness knows how many of the girls she has tormented by now!" Harry said hotly. "Well, Peggy wont, or Leila, they're too nice…" she mused.

"The key term here is _girl_. We need to throw her off of our track." I said.

"Okay Johnny, you got the dirt on her, what would you have written?" Harry asked me testily.

"Dear Cleo: I love you abundantly, but your face looks like a baboon's backside and your behind rivals that of an elephant's. Signed, your secret admirer." I deadpanned.

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Sherlock snorted, "I see your poetic powers has not diminished over time John!"

"Why thank you Sherlock. Luna and Harry agreed with you!" John said with a bow of his head.

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Luna and Harry doubled over, clutching their sides from laughing so hard. Luna managed to calm herself down first.

"That's brilliant! But your wording is a bit sophisticated; it might narrow down the field for her. Give me one of the cards, I think I figured out the perfect message for her." Luna took a card and wrote her massage. Then she turned it towards us. It read:

"Dear Cleo,

I love you a lot, but your face is like a monkey's butt and your ass is bigger than a seal's.

From: Your secret admirer."

It was written in a careful print that gave nothing away about the writer's gender. Harry couldn't stop herself from grinning like a lunatic. I took the card to hand it with my other cards after I filled them.

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"What did you write in them?"

"I don't remember after all these years, Sherlock!" John said exasperated. Then he brightened up, "But I'm about to get to the good part!"

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After handing over the cards we just had to wait for Valentine's Day and the student's delivery system to do the rest. Luna and I got to the canteen first and we waited for Harry to join us. It was obvious from a mile off that Harry was in a splendid mood when she joined us.

"So, what was her reaction?" Luna asked her excitedly.

"Did she even notice it?" I asked skeptically.

"Has she even received it yet? They're moving according to alphabetical order." Luna said with a slight frown.

"Oh, she received it alright! Her family name starts with a 'B', she got her card in the first period." Then Harry grinned maliciously, "For someone who claims to be so popular, she sure received _very_ few cards today."

"You mean…"

"Yes, ours was the only one she got." Then she burst out laughing, "It didn't go according to plan," She composed herself, "it went better!"

"Well get on with it Harry, you're killing us here!" Luna was practically bouncing in her seat.

"Okay, so the delivery students came to the class and handed out the cards. Peter of course got a handful of them, he's such a darling, and Peggy got two or three, did I tell you about Peggy? She's so nice it's like she stepped out of a kid's show-"

"Ahem!" Luna pointedly cleared her throat.

"Sorry, got carried away. Anyway, Cleo was smirking oh so superiorly at Peggy-not that Peggy minded - when the harpy got her batch." Harry giggled, "The look on her face when she saw her _only_ card was priceless! Oh I should have brought a camera with me!"

"Did she read it in the class?" I asked curiously.

"Yes she did. First she made a show of looking dreamy when she read the first few words, but she got so furious when she got through the rest of it that she went berserk! She started screaming and yelling. Then she realized that she was making a fool of herself and left the class in embarrassment." Harry finished delighted.

"_Intrigue, embarrassment, and crushed hopes_" Luna quoted me. "Well John, we had the intrigue and Cleo got the embarrassment, but we haven't seen the crushed hopes yet."

"I think she's about to get that." I nodded towards a corner of the canteen. Harry and Luna turned to see what was going on.

Cleo had marched up towards Al, a boy known for being a jerk and suspected of being a joint dealer in the school. She stood in front of him and smiled coquettishly at him "I know it was you who sent me the Valentine's card. So how about the Rose café tonight?"

"Wha' are you on about ditz?"

"You sent me a card and you said you loved me. Only you would insult me like that. I know you like me and that's the only way you can express yourself, so I'll let the insults slide."

"Are you on crack or some'ing?"

Cleo yanked Al's collar and pulled him down. "Listen you twerp! I'm gonna have a Valentine's date and you are going to come with me." She snarled.

Al was shocked by this action. Then he pulled himself together. "Ya, wha'ever! But don' expect me to be a gen'leman!"

"I lost hope of having a decent romantic dinner when I saw your card!"

"Wha' card?" he whined.

"Nice try. Now come on, we're going to have to find a decent outfit for you to wear tonight." And she pulled her after him.

We were doubled over laughing when an awkward red head approached our table. "Harry?"

Harry composed herself and blushed. "Leila! How's it going?"

"That was a nice thing you did for Peter today."

"What are you talking about Leila?"

"It's okay Harry, I know it was you who set Peter and Peggy up together. Sending Valentine cards from one to the other, it was a smart move." Leila said with a knowing smile.

Harry spluttered a bit and finally managed to say, "Do you want to go shopping with me after school today?"

"Sure, why not. I hate all this Valentine nonsense anyway."

Luna looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

"I listened at your analysis of the student's interactions and did a little matchmaking of my own." I said with a shrug.

"You caused a chain pairing John, the balance has been disturbed!" Luna said with exaggerated horror.

I simply smiled at her. "Do you want me to set you up with Ryan?"

"No, thanks!" she said with a huff, "I can get a Ryan if I want a Ryan! Hay Ryan!" She addressed a tall brunet boy passing our table, "let's go out tonight."

Ryan was stunned for a moment, "Um, that's bit sudden, don't you think?"

"I'm not asking you to marry me; I'm just inviting you to dinner." Luna said smoothly.

"Sure, why not. How about Castles' café?" he said with a grin.

Luna smiled brightly, "It's a date!"

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"Did you go out with the girl you fancied that year?" Sherlock asked John as they walked out of the café.

"Yup, she was impressed by the poetic prowess I showed in my card." John said with a smirk.

"What happened to the fifth card?"

"What fifth card?"

"You bought five cards for that Valentine. One was used for your prank on Cleo, two were used for setting up Peter and Peggy, and you sent another to your crush, John. That's only four cards, what happened to the fifth one?"

"You're right Sherlock, what did I do with the fifth card?"

"You're deflecting John."

"Hmm…I can't seem to re-"

*Ping*

"That's mine!" with that John fished his mobile phone out of his pocket and opened the new message.

- _You're not the best, but you're my brother and I love you. Happy Valentine's Day!_ Harry

John smiled as he was reminded of that particular Valentine's Day again.

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It was after school and the students were rushing to get out. Harry caught up to John and slapped him on the back.

"Hey bro! Mind if I walk with you."

"Sure thing. After all, what are brothers for?" John said with a smile.

The Watson siblings walked side by side as their cousin Luna joined them and reported the other pairings that had happened that day. Harry thumbed the single Valentine's card she had received that day. It was one of the cards handed out by the student's delivery system. It read:

"Dear Harry,

You're not the best, but you're my sister and I love you. Happy Valentine's day!

From: John"

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**So, what did you think? Should I write Greg and Molly's set up by those two? I'd love to hear your thoughts, don't be shy! ;)**


	8. Through the woods and into the restauran

**For Lucy36's birthday, happy birthday dear!**

**This chapter gave me a lot of trouble, I hope it turned out okay. Based partly on a true story, or so I was told!**

**I don't own the characters of BBC Sherlock, I wanted to take them on a pick-nick but they got lost and- Oh, there they are!**

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**Through the Woods and into the Restaurant**

The sun shone through the branches of the forest into the charming little country restaurant. Brandon, the cheery host of the restaurant smiled as he straightened his plaque on the counter. He loved working in this place; it was a nice place that under his management was going to become one of the most prestigious restaurants in the aria.

Just then the door of the restaurant burst open and three haggard figures bounded in. One was tall with dark curly hair which was sticking up in odd angles and had an array of dry leaves and twigs clinging in the curls. The other one was shorter with blond hair and was supporting a third one. The short blond hair on the back of his head was standing on its ends and a few twigs were hanging from his woolen jumper. A man with messy silver hair and a torn coat was leaning on him. They all looked tiered and grumpy and they slightly swaggered when they stood in front of the counter to order.

Brandon wiped the shocked look on his face and pulled himself together with great effort. He managed to put on a winning smile and greeted his first customers of the day.

"Good morning gentlemen. My name's Brandon and welcome to the Golden Beacon, would you like me to tell you about todays' special?"

"Yes, which one of the items on your menu can be prepared _specially_ fast?" The blond asked briskly.

"You can't rush fine cuisine dear sir, all of the dishes at the Golden Beacon are prepared with great care."

The brunet swayed a bit on the spot and the blonde began to bristle. "I mean no disrespect, but could you tell your chef to make an exception and just whip something up for us?"

"Fine, if you insist. I guess I could-" Brandon abruptly cut himself in the middle of his own sentence when the silver haired man leaned forward with a formidable glare. He then reached over the counter and took a ketchup packet, tore off a bit of the package with his teeth, spit the plastic out of his mouth, put the packet to his mouth and sucked the sauce in a swift and noisy move. Then he slammed the empty packet on the counter and growled, "Food, NOW!"

Brandon spluttered. He was on the verge of fainting when a cackle of laughter was heard from the door frame leading to the kitchen. A slender woman with light brown hair was leaning on the door frame and laughing her head off. She was wearing boots and an apron and she wore a white cloth cover over her hair. A light brown fringe swept over her forehead.

The three new-comers stared at her. She cleared her throat and straightened. "Hi, I'm Wendy and I'm the chef here." She said with a smile, "I'll make an omelet and some toast for you lot. You go and make your selves comfortable."

She turned and headed back in the kitchen and the three strange customers went and dropped down behind the table nearest to them.

Brandon followed Wendy into the kitchen. "Why were you laughing? Those people might be dangerous! Did you _see_ them?"

"No! Let me take a look!" Wendy said with exaggerated astonishment.

They both peeked out from the door into the main salon. The three costumers were slumped in their chairs and had a glazed look on their faces.

The blond raised his head a little and said "This table is too big, we should go and sit behind that one." He indicated the table next to them.

"Sure, after you." The silver haired man grumbled.

The blond made a feeble attempt to rise, but he slumped down again "Nah, too far!"

The two employees went back inside. "Oh yes, very dangerous. And so inconsiderate too, sitting behind a table for six in an hour where there are absolutely no costumers!" Wendy said sarcastically.

"They won't be this meek after they're fed." Brandon insisted.

"Brandon," Wendy said exasperated, "This frikinn restaurant is on the edge of the forest. You should expect lost travelers stumbling into the restaurant every day." She raised her eyebrows when she saw the dismayed look on his face, "What? You thought posh customers would be frequenting here?"

Brandon was lost for words and just stared at her. Wendy rolled her eyes and handed him a tray.

"I thought you said you were going to make them some omelets? This is soup and water."

"They probably haven't have eaten for days, and I'm guessing they might be a bit dehydrated as well. Go serve them this tray until the omelets are ready." And with that she pushed Brandon out of the kitchen.

Brandon arranged the dishes in front of the disheveled trio without looking up and scurried away as soon as he was done.

The blonde opened a water bottle and filled half of each glass. He pushed a glass toward each of his companions. He nudged the curly haired man, "Come on Sherlock, drink this." as Sherlock complied, he turned to the other man, "Slowly Greg, I don't want you to have stomach cramps."

"Sure thing, John." Greg said wearily. John refilled their glasses and after that they felt up to starting on their soup. It was a tasty barley and mushroom soup and it revived them enough so that when Wendy came to serve their main course they felt like acting like actual civilized human beings towards her.

"So, what's you lot's story then?" Wendy came and asked them after they had finished their meal.

"You seem like an intelligent woman, what's your theory?"

"I can't tell all the details, but from what I can gather, you were not prepared to go in the woods, like, at all." She pointed to John, "He seems to be the most prepared of you all, and it seems he's more used to rough situations. Then you got lost. Whatever your reason for going into the woods was, you were disappointed, or I wouldn't have been treated to that stellar display of Brandon's near fainting."

Greg raised his water glass to her in acknowledgement, "That Brandon is and idiot."

"Poor thing, he's under the delusion that he is running a five star hotel in Paris." John said with a grin.

Sherlock snorted then he furrowed his brow, "John, why is your hand shaking?"

"That," John said while looking at his hand, "is the sugar hitting my system after a long period of starvation."

"Yeah…I'll leave you guys to it then." And with that Wendy left their table.

Sherlock began swaying in his seat. John put his hand on his shoulder. "You went without food longer than us. Put your head on the table, the dizziness would get better."

After Sherlock rested his head on his arms on the table, John noticed Greg. Lestrade was sitting stiffly in his seat and was taking deep breaths. John shook his head with amusement "I told you to eat slower."

"Yes, I didn't listen to _doctor's orders_ and now I'm paying the price." Greg said with a wry smile. "It'll get better. How's your tremor?"

"Going down." John replied. He looked out of the window for a long moment and smirked.

"What's so amusing out there?" Sherlock said from behind his arms.

"I'll tell you in a moment." Then john turned towards the kitchen and called, "Wendy? Would you be so kind as to prepare a Burger to go?"

Wendy poked her head out of the kitchen door, "Just one? Now I really want to hear the story behind _that_!" She said with a mischievous grin.

"Sure thing, we have about twenty minutes to spare." John said nonchalantly while looking out of the window.

Sherlock tried to bolt upright and Lestrade put his arm around the back of his chair trying to turn around in his seat.

"Stop, both of you!" John said firmly while keeping a hand on Sherlock's shoulder, preventing him from getting upright. "We can't stare outside, we'll tip him off!"

"_You're_ staring outside!" Sherlock grumbled.

"Well, we can't all stare! Besides, I'm not staring; I'm glancing in infrequent intervals. There's a big difference." John said smugly. Sherlock began grumbling something unintelligible which John strongly suspected was a string of insults.

Wendy approached their table with a tray. She set it down and began arranging its contents on the table. She set a fresh bottle of water and an empty glass in front of an empty seat. She then placed an empty saucer in front of Greg and John each, then handed Greg a cordless phone handset.

John and Greg Lestrade looked at her with confusion. Wendy smiled, "I'm guessing you don't want to be embarrassed in front of whomever is coming to get you lot. That means you need to get rid of all the twigs and leaves in your hair and clothes. Now, I don't want all that rubbish on my restaurant's floor, hens the saucers."

"Okay, that still doesn't explain the phone." Greg said, still a bit dazed.

"And we're about to get the new comer, not the other way around." John added hesitantly.

"Hem!" Wendy said with a slight frown. Then she sat herself behind the table and placed her face on her right palm. "Okay then, what am I missing? I was sure your mobile phones' batteries were dead, so I brought the phone for you to call your friends and tell them where you were."

"Alright, do you have security cameras around your restaurant?" John asked.

"Sure, they're a few covering the entrance and the tables. We _do_ get some fugitives here, so we need to be prepared." Wendy explained, "But I don't see how-"

"The moment our faces appeared on your cameras, backup was dispatched to get us." John answered the half uttered question.

"Well, more like _him_." Greg indicated Sherlock, "But we'll hitch a ride back home as well."

"Care to tell me the whole story?" Wendy asked enthusiastically.

"Okay, but don't ask us to tell _all_ of the details, or I'd be forced to kill you." Greg joked,

"And it would be a real shame to lose _such_ a capable and beautiful chef." John added.

Sherlock cleared his throat pointedly "Stop flirting you two and tell the story!"

"Alright, alright!" John protested. Then he turned to Wendy, "It all began two days ago. We were after a diamond thief and we chased him to the village on the other side of these woods." He picked a twig out of Sherlock's hair and went on. "It was near dawn when we surrounded his lodgings, but he managed to slip past one of our people-"

"He knocked out Jones." Greg interjected, while picking out a few pine leaves from Sherlock's curls.

"What are you two doing?" Sherlock's muffled voice interrupted their narration, his displeasure clearly conveyed through his tone.

"Making you look like a human again." John deadpanned. "Any way, our perpetrator escaped and went into the woods. Sherlock and I followed him right away."

"A team of officers and I followed as well." Greg picked up the narration. "I stumbled on a fallen branch and fell in a ditch." He picked out another branch from Sherlock's hair.

"When we found Greg in the ditch a few hours after his accident he was semi-conscious. I patched him up as well as I could and we continued our hunt as soon as he could manage." John said while maneuvering a particularly long twig out of Sherlock's curls. "But by the time we got our wits together we realized our quarry was long gone and we were _very_ lost. So we decided to leave that task to the rest of the search party and to find our way out of the forest."

"How did you manage to get out?" Wendy was intrigued.

"I knew following an east-west line was our fastest way out. Our general direction before finding Greg was west, so I suggested continuing that route would be our best bet." John explained.

"Apparently our fugitive had the same idea, because we bumped into him along the way." Greg continued.

"Which resulted into a confusing detour and by the time we found which way is which it was getting dark. So we camped in the woods. We continued our way westward until we got out of the woods." John finished his narration while pulling out the last dry leaf out of Sherlock's hair. "It was lucky our chase brought us near here." John said with a bright smile.

Sherlock, finally released, brought up his head and sighed in relief. Greg stared at him for a moment then exclaimed "Sherlock!"

"What?"

"You're back!" Lestrade said with exaggerated delight, then he clasped the consultant's shoulders "We managed to rescue you from the porcupine people!"

"This calls for a group hug!" John said enthusiastically.

"No."

"Spoil sport!" Greg and John chorused.

"So, the thief is going to get here any minute now." Wendy said with a steady tone.

"Yes, but he won't be any danger to anyone, since he has gone on without food or water just as long as we have." Sherlock reassured her.

At that precise moment the door of the restaurant opened and a scrawny man with dirty brown hair entered. He looked around and saw his three pursuers behind the table. He put his face in his hands in exasperation, then looked at them again. John glared at him fiercely, then indicated the chair with the water bottle set in front of it with his head, never breaking eye contact. The thief sighed in resignation and slumped behind their table.

After he finished his first glass of water, the door burst open and five police officers bustled in. One of them looked around the restaurant in search of their fugitive. The thief got up and surrendered himself in a hurry, while shooting terrified glances at John. Wendy handed him his burger on his way out.

After the police officers took away the thief, the trio noticed Mycroft standing in the door way. "I trust you are all well?" He said in his usual drawl.

"CCTV cameras?" Lestrade asked amiably.

"Indeed." Mycroft analyzed Sherlock, scrutinized his hair, then he turned to John, "Since you got him through the forest and out of the porcupine people's clutches, do you think you can rescue him from the fuzzy people as well?"


End file.
